The Start of it All
by Shaymeless
Summary: Before they were in a black romance, Dualscar and Mindfang were something more.
1. Blood Orange

Raging winds pulled the sails of the massive ship across the sea. The air smelled of salt, the waters carried an occasional dead body or two, and the deck was full of loitering pirates. Their captain was nowhere to be found but that made no difference to the workload. Each man took on their duties as if the 8itch herself was standing right behind them, breathing down their necks. It was a term of endearment, in their own way. While she may have been an iron-fist ruler, she was also fair, and more loyal to her crew than to the Empress herself. That in itself was unsurprising; any troll crazy enough to willingly make himself an outlaw knew he was swearing off all ties to the caste system. This was what made them rebels in the first place, unlike the rebels fighting the system, but moreso rebels who just cared not for it. Neutral rebels. Liquor, sex, and riches. Equality was hardly in their interests so long as they could hold a pint of beer in one hand and grab the ass of a lover in their other.

But trust. Trust.

Now that was a funny word. Hardly associated with pirates, and yet they were the most loyal of men ever to be found on this planet. They've been there for the captain through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, for rich or for poor. If she wasn't such a complete asshat, she might appreciate them more. It's not to be misunderstood that Marquise was an unfit captain, or even ungrateful. She appreciated her crew as much as a mother loves her children (if that mother also drank and fought and sparred with her kids), but she lied to them on a daily basis. Her lies had nothing to do with money or identity or their raids, but about her relationships.

One in particular.

Cronus 'Dualscar' Ampora was feared by many, admired by some, and actually met by few. The man was domineering, powerful, intelligent and clever, with an ego bigger than his ship and arrogance as far as the eye could see. And she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Or rather, they were drawn to each other like the sun and moon. Destined to never meet, and yet somehow they kiss at the end of every night and day. They were destructive towards each other, better off separated.

Somehow, the two kept colliding.

It was no secret that he was redder for the Empress than the second sun. It was also no secret that she used his affections to her advantage, keeping him at her side for use. He was nothing but a pawn to the Queen, a puppet, a toy for her to play with. He did her bidding without a second thought, without even a moment of hesitation. To the pirates, he was a spineless pathetic tool. The conflict between his crew and hers often got deadly, mainly because they couldn't stand the sight of him.

Her crew had no respect for him, mocked him. And if they ever knew she was screwing him, they'd have no respect for her too.

So she kept their relationship a secret.

In truth, they went so far back beyond anyone's knowledge. The two have known each other since they were maybe 3 sweeps old. Before Mindfang was 'Mindfang', she was Aranea.

A noble troll, her caste put her in some wealth and comfort. She attended uncomfortably lavish (and hideously decorated) balls and parties. Her Imperious Condescension was known for keeping her minions in line, often throwing parties for the rich to keep tabs on them. Those of a higher caste knew that while the invitations were 'optional', attendance was actually mandatory. Balls were just her way of keeping them under her thumb, reminding them of who she was and how how insignificant the rest were in comparison.

Everyone dressed up in their best fabrics and jewelries, playing their part for the show. Smile and laugh, have a glass of wine and dance. But not a single person enjoyed themselves. It was only a way to keep Her satisfied.

The Party of Sweep 4 was the turning point in Aranea's life. An hour prior, her home looked like a hurricane had blown through it. Heels and dresses covered every inch of the floor as she picked out one that might keep her from a culling that night. Already on thin ice with the Empress, she couldn't afford another strike. But luck was on her side this night; a cerulean long sleeved gown hung in the very back of her closet. Black roses were faintly sewn onto the skirt while the corset sucked all life out of her and gave her an hourglass figure. Impossibly high heels made her feel like she was walking on stilts, but this was normal. She'd long since grown used to it. Though she was only 7 sweeps, Aranea was a master of hiding her pain in favor of a charming smile. Conceal, don't feel. Troll Elsa taught her that.

When the driver dropped her off, she braced herself for three hours of brief conversations. Thank goodness these parties were only held a few times a year.

Her chest vibrated in tune with the music coming from inside, and as she headed towards the front door, it was clear why. The party was in full swing with trolls dancing on her left and right; she recognized a few of her acquaintances. Kurloz was on the far left of the room, a glass of red wine in his hand. All the way across, Cronus was seated at the same table as HIC. In fact, he was the only one seated at the table. The rest were surrounding them, engaging in chit chat with the Empress, attempting to gain her favor. It was pointless. Her Imperious 8itchiness cared for one thing and one thing only: herself. Every other troll was a toy, and those who didn't realize it were stupid.

Aranea sauntered over to the purpleblood, wanting nothing to do with the fish queen. As long as Serket showed face, she was in the clear. If she could avoid contact, this night just might be bearable.

As she approached him, a waiter offered her alcohol. Like any sensible woman, she accepted.

"Your hair is shorter than I last remember," Makara murmured as she stood by his side. He easilt towered over her.

"I cut it again. It's always been short, you know that." She retorted.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you with long hair."

"That's correct."

A few moments passed while they both observed the room. Every party was like the last, nothing ever changed. The obnoxious, rich, and arrogant all gathered at the beck and call of HIC. When she said 'jump', they asked 'how high'. No questions asked. That's how it's always been. And Aranea was just starting to realize just how much she loathed it.

Kurloz merely glanced at her from the corner of his eyes and blew out a sigh.

"Is there any particular reason you're on probation, right now?" He was referring to the Empress's careful watch on her. If Aranea had refused to come, she'd probably be dead by midnight. But if she told anyone why she's missed the last two parties, then she'd also be dead. The rich know nothing of loyalty, and the Empress has spies in every corner.

Why did she avoid every ball? Because she was planning to leave, for good. Seven sweeps old was so young to make such an impulsive decision, so she waited to make sure this was what exactly what she wanted. And it was. But she chose to lie to save her ass in the long run.

"I've been sick." She smiled.

Kurloz narrowed his eyes but said nothing else. He didn't believe her, but he also couldn't tell what she was planning. No one could have predicted what she was about to do.

Two hours into the party and she couldn't take it anymore. The music was getting louder by the minute and everyone's breath reeked of liquor. She figured her presence has been known long enough that she could make her escape, and so she did. Or rather, she tried. But _he_ stopped her. Cronus spotted her from across the room, watching her every movement. Just as she was out the front door, he excused himself from the table and caught up to her.

"Leaving so soon?"

She paused at hearing his voice. Her heels clacked against the front steps and echoed in the silence when she ceased to continue. Without turning around, her lips pulled into a tight smile.

"I've been here for quite a while; I do believe it's time to make my departure. My apologies," She hesitated, "..I figured this would be easier without saying goodbye."

Cronus felt a hidden meaning in her words, as he should. This might be the very last time he saw her. After tonight, Aranea would die. Metaphorically.

His fingers circled around her wrist and spun her around to face him, the other arm snaking around her waist to pull her close. Instinctively, her hand came up to his shoulder.

He smirked.

"Then may I have this last dance?"

"I suppose." And just like that, they were waltzing without music. It felt natural to her, after all; she knew all sorts of formal dances as was custom for nobles. Social gatherings like these required it. But after today, that knowledge may as well be tossed to the sea, which was incidentally exactly where she planned to be.

Their breathing was in tuned with each other as the silently counted off their waltz.

 _1 2 3, 1 2 3_.

Cronus glanced at her with an unfathomable look in his eyes.

"Do you remember when we were wrigglers?"

Of course he would go down memory lane on this day.

Aranea tightened her fingers on his shoulder and quirked an eyebrow.

"We were inseparable. And then you went off, got gooey eyed over the Empress, and here we are. What's your point?"

He scowled.

"Always the pessimist. I'm trying to focus on the _good_ memories, Aranea."

There were plenty, if she was being honest. As children, they played a lot together. Took baths together, had sleepovers. She gave him girl advice on his crushes and he painted her nails for her. At heart, Cronus was a softie. And her best friend.

But once he took on his caste's traditional role, he forgot all about her. His infatuation with the empress blinded him. Changed him. Sometimes, she saw a glimmer of the guy she once knew, but that was gone.

Perhaps that's why she was less reluctant to leave. There was nothing and no one here holding her back.

The sound of her ride arriving pulled her back to the present. Stepping away, his arms dropped from her body, silence filling the air between them.

"We were kids, Cro," She spoke softly as he knelt down and kissed her hand. If only things had gone differently.

"..Goodbye." Their voices overlapped the other's.

The next day, her hive was burned to the ground and everything inside was burnt to a crisp.


	2. Baby Blue

For the next three sweeps, Aranea went off the grid.

There were no traces left in the rubble. Ashes scattered across the ground told a story no one could piece together. In the morning, when everything had cleared and investigations were in-the-process, they found all of her possessions burned to a crisp. Not even a simple pillow was left unscathed. Then again, that's what happens when you soak your home in gasoline and toss a match into the library. The flames spread faster than she could say 'damn', leaving her mere seconds to get her ass out of there.

By the time she managed to dart down the stairs and out the front door, Aranea had just enough time to turn around and watch her hive crumble while the heat waves threatened to singe her eyebrows off. There was no turning back now. All she had left was a small sack of coins saved for the journey and the clothes on her back. To leave her aristocrat life meant leaving behind everything she knew. Her social status, wealth, acquaintances, power...love. All of it had to be forgotten if she wanted to go through with this plan.

And what exactly was this "plan"?

To start over.

Her Imperious Condescension would never allow a blueblood to willingly leave her court. The Empress had eyes in every corner of the planet, but even the fearsome fish had rebels who disobeyed her. The Gamblignants. They did their best to stay out of her sight just to avoid execution, but word travels fast for the right price. The docks on the lower side of Sanctuary Square is where they're located at for the time being. Sanctuary Square is neutral ground. Lowbloods stuck around there to trade and make profit without worrying about being murdered for sport.

It was neutral enough that Imperial Drones wouldn't cross because this territory wasn't worthy. And highbloods never entered, not if they had a shred of dignity. Most lowbloods have never even seen a highblood unless their life was close to ending, so she figured she was safe. But just for precaution, she wore a simple black hooded robe to conceal her face from authority and her expensive clothes from suspecting lowbloods. The sides of the robe hid the sack of currency as well, in the event someone tried to pickpocket or rob her. By foot, it would take her three days to get to the docks. With luck on her side, the Gamblignants wouldn't leave for four days; a guess she turned out to be right about. The girl was famished after her second day, but the coin bag saved her when she finally made it to the Square. 6 coins blessed her with a hot meal and a water-filled canteen. With her stomach full and her energy replenished, Aranea continued on and found herself standing before a dozen massive ships, ranging in size. Sailors and pirates walked about without batting an eye at her.

That wouldn't do, not at all. She needed to grab their attention.

"Excuse me-" One brushed right past her. Rude. She looked around and tried to approach another, but met the same fate.

"Hello, may I-"

"Where can I-"

"Have you seen-"

None of these men gave her a glance. Now she was becoming frustrated. She needed to stop wasting time on the regulars and find the captain. Since the Gamblignants were a secret-based group, she wasn't exactly sure what this 'captain' looked like. Would the captain blend into the rest and make it hard for her to pluck from the crowd, or be distinguished like a peacock?

As it turned out, she didn't have to wait long, because the captain found her first.

"You look lost, lass. Don't suppose you're from these parts." The captain was...beautiful. Tall with a pale grey complexion. Hair as black as the sea flowed down to their shoulders with an intricately designed hat on top. It was hard to tell what caste they belonged to, but it wasn't the usual. With their aura of confidence, the captain had to be at least a jadeblood. They sauntered around like they owned every piece of land they walked on, and truth be told, Aranea believed it.

"I'm...a traveler. I'm looking for a potential ship to join so I can scale the ranks." She squared her shoulders and made eye contact with them.

The captain snorted. "Just a traveler, aye? Then what's with that fancy word choice, miss?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. Did she say something wrong?

"I do not understand what you mean?"

"That, right there. Ye talk like ye got a stick up your ass." The few pirates nearby chuckled while they prepped the ship for departure, carrying boxes of supplies back and forth.

"Well…" This was the only way she knew how to speak: prim and proper. It has always been mandatory for a lady of her blood but it seemed to be biting her in the ass now. If she continued speaking like a member of the high court, survival would be impossible. Aranea would never be able to infiltrate and start her life over if she could not adapt. It was time to abandon the rules she's known her entire life and take up a more...vulgar lifestyle. After all, this _is_ what she wanted. Before she could correct or explain herself, the captain spoke up.

Apparently, they'd been analyzing her this entire time and watching her struggle internally. The captain wasn't an idiot; all it took was a few seconds of staring to piece together what kind of troll this was and decided she didn't belong with them.

"Go back home, lass. This life ain't for you." They started to turn around when Aranea grabbed their wrist. Home? What did they know about her home?

"I can't."

"Sure you can! Just waltz out of here with ye fancy words and-"

"No. I _can't_." She grit her teeth. "I didn't give up everything to be told 'no'. I didn't destroy my own hive for nothing. The same trolls that smile at me would slit my throat without batting an eye if they knew what I was doing. There is no turning back for me, so if I have to – to fucking curse to get my point across, then I will. I will do anything it takes because I'm not freaking leaving unless I'm boarding that ship. Do you hear me?"

Aranea was blue in the face and realized she was still grabbing their wrist, so she let go and waited anxiously. Was that too much? Did she come on too strong? Did she just wreck her chances of joining the only league of pirates who'd be willing to take her in?

After a few seconds, the captain bursted with laughter. A very confused Aranea watched while the other eventually died down to chuckles.

"Alright, no need to get out of control there. 'Freaking'. Ha!" They shook their head, amused. That was the single most funny thing they've ever heard. Freaking. A joke for many sweeps to come. "Listen, pretty faces just don't belong 'ere. Ye'd be a liability, at best–"

"But–"

"– _However,_ I sense a mean spirit in that tiny body of yers. And I like it. So ye can have a one week trial. If, by the end of the week, ye can't take it anymore, then you can jump off the boat and freeze to death. Or we'll just drop you off at the nearest port. If you decide ye wanna stay, then welcome to the Gablignants. Deal?"

"...Deal."

For the next week, she busted her ass to do everything they threw at her. The captain made sure to test her every limit, starting with strength. Aranea had to load the ship with dozens of crates and barrels by herself, ranging from 10 lbs to 80 lbs. It took her an entire day to move them and by the end of it, her arms felt like noodles. By the third day of living on the ship, her hair resembled a rat's nest, so she had to keep it in a ponytail to keep it from interfering with her work. Sometimes she cleaned the deck. Some days she washed the dishes.

The ship was built in three levels. The top obviously being the deck. Below that level was the captain's quarters. The entire floor belonged to the captain themself, but public areas were there as well like the kitchenette and bathroom. The bottom level was where the rest of the crew slept, complete with their own small rooms and bunks. So where did they stick her?

On the deck, of course! She slept, ate, and worked there on that wood. Rain or sun, it didn't matter. For a week, those were her living conditions. Did she complain? Did she whine about how unfair it was? Did she question their authority? Was she that stupid? If she was, then she didn't deserve to be there. And now was the moment of truth, the time to find out what they planned to do with her.

Seven days passed. Seven grueling days. At the end of it, the captain called everyone to the deck with their little guinea pig in the center. She's been denied showers, given minimal food, and pushed around by every other member. It was cruelty at its best. So what was the outcome?

"As ye all know, I took in this little charity case a week ago to see what kind of potential she has. And ye all saw for yerselves what she could do. Or couldn't do." They began to count off on their fingers. "In one week, she's done more manual labor then Silas has done in his entire miserable life."

The troll in question started to protest while his comrades laughed, but the captain continued.

"She's eaten so little her body is actually much frailer than when she started. I'm pretty sure I can see her ribcage. And the lass has slept probably eight hours in total?" They nodded. "Eight hours. But has anyone heard her complain?"

The captain waited for an answer and watched everyone shake their heads.

"Tis what I thought. I think she's endured a lot, more than any of ye have in your early days. Maybe that's why you sorry sacks are so lazy." They raised an eyebrow. The captain had definitely pushed Aranea further than anyone else because they knew what and who she was. It was a secret kept from the rest of the crew, a secret she was grateful for. But it was also the sole reason for her being practically tortured. They wanted to see how devoted she was since she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

"So after all that, I think we can have all have a drink tonight to welcome her in. Whadda ya say?"

The crew cheered as her eyes lit up. She..passed? She was in? Aranea could call herself a Gamblignant?

Later that night, she finally got to eat a proper meal (and not just the scraps they'd been feeding her all week) with a drink in hand. So maybe she lied about her age just to get this drink, but goddamnit she earned it. Everyone sat around in a circle and told jokes with each other, but the conversation took an odd turn. They spoke about the caste system, how it was rigged and ridiculous. But they were all curious about what blood Aranea possessed. Where did she fit in the system to want to join them?

"Yeah, newbie, what's in yer blood stream, aye?"

Since the captain had yet to reveal her name, the rest just called her 'newbie' or 'new blood'. Privacy was for her safety, just in case one of them recognized her name and not her face.

But this right here was bad; if they knew she was a blueblood and originally belonged to the enemy, who knows what might happen? The captain alone couldn't save her against the entire crew and there was no telling how they'd react. She was on her own.

"Uhh. What's in _me_? … Powers." Buying herself some time.

They all looked skeptical now. "Powers? What kinda powers?"

"M..ind powers." This wasn't technically false. She hasn't used her manipulation powers in a while but they were still there. "Like that guy working for the fish bitch." Woah where'd that come from? She always used respectful names for the Empress. The insult came out of nowhere, and yet it felt so good. And it got a chuckle from her peers.

"Ya mean that Helmsman guy? Ya got powers like him?"

"Not exactly. We both use our mind but I can do other stuff, like um. Like.. Well this." It was easier to just demonstrate her power than explain it. Pursing her lips, she concentrated on tapping into their minds, all of them, just to whisper 'Hello' in their brain. Working on multiple trolls at once takes a hell of a lot of energy, especially since she doesn't practice with it as often as she should, but it proved her point.

"Aye, she is like a mustardblood then." The captain spoke up, sharing a glance with her. 'I've got yer back, lass.' Is what the glance said.

"I hear them yellows are freaky with their mind powers; is that true?" Another member responded. The suggestive waggling of his eyebrows made it clear what he meant, and it was so blunt and vulgar that she almost choked on her liquor. Instead, she ended up banging her teeth against the glass and chipping her tooth.

"Fuck.. I just lost my fang." What a great way to start her new life.

The men around her laughed while the captain stood and proposed a toast.

"To our new recruit… Ye shall be called Mind...Fang. Aye!"

"Aye!"


End file.
